The Litter Box

Don’t Call Me Mrs. Count

I want to marry a French man, preferably a good one with a thick accent. Someone with a romantic name who has strong convictions, solid morals… and a goatee. Someone who repays his debts and seeks to help those who have helped him. Someone who doesn’t seek revenge, but toils with the idea of it. A good guy who could be bad but has chosen otherwise.

Yeah, I like the sound of that.

Unfortunately, that man is not Edmond Dantès. I just spent the last thirty days immersed in the mystery and intrigue of The Count of Monte Cristo and the idea of a noble French man got to me, but not because I was reading about one. I wasn’t. After a few months of romances, spoiled lovers, and proper society, I was ready for a little adventure. Oddly enough, all of the above made their appearance, but so did anger, revenge, and a lifetime of bitterness. It was ugly. And oh so fun.

Say what now?

It’s true. It was fun. I don’t normally enjoy watching characters self-destruct, but there was something about digging into this man’s psyche, his inner mind, his emotions that was… to be frank… fascinating.

If you know the story by Alexandre Dumas, then you know Dantès WAS innocent at one point. (Weren’t we all?) He had those strong convictions and solid morals. He was good. But that was stolen from him when he was falsely accused and imprisoned without trial. The ugliness infected him there, eating away at the man he was until he didn’t know who he was at all. Not that he would show or admit that. The person (or rather persons) he became after his inventive escape portrayed the exact opposite. His payback was contingent on the confident, compassionate, rich, and strong personalities of Abbé Busoni, Lord Wilmore, and finally Monte Cristo. The paradoxes are nothing if not delicious.

Perhaps the most obvious paradox is that of poverty vs. riches. These pages are rife with various themes, but it’s easy to see the age-old idea that money can buy happiness. Dantès becomes Monte Cristo after finding the hidden treasure a fellow prisoner described and after he uses that treasure to buy the influence of a Count. It’s that money, in fact, that wins him the social prestige he needs to exact his revenge.

Revenge comes slowly at first as Monte Cristo first destroys Mondego/Morcef’s reputation (he eventually commits suicide), then unearths murderous acts that Villefort is guilty of (he eventually goes insane), and finally strips Danglers of his stature by robbing him little by little (he eventually is left bankrupt of money—and pride).

Dantès-turned-Count has brought about one man’s suicide, another man’s insanity, and a third man’s bankruptcy. He has orchestrated his own version of justice (after justice let him down). But is he happy?

What do you think? Has everything he’s plotted, all that he has purchased, actually made him happy? My answer would be a clear “no.” How could he be? He might have gotten his revenge, but how could he live with it? I would argue that no human being is immune to guilt and I can’t imagine the Count wouldn’t have it after all the destruction he composed.

But others disagree with me. Google the title of the book and you’ll find many different opinions. True, the book ends with the Count finding love with Haydée, a person who you could argue was shown the same injustice that Dantès was at the very beginning. And that may represent a return to his good self. But at what cost? A whole lotta hatred. I believe love is powerful, but I don’t believe human love can absolve such atrocities. And while reading about it all was entertaining, it’s not something I want to experience.

And that’s why I want a GOOD French man. One who could be bad but chooses not to be. One who loves more than he hates.

And, oh yeah, one with a goatee.